


From Where I Stand (alternative ending)

by Papaisse



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25338541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papaisse/pseuds/Papaisse
Summary: Sometimes I have really bad ideas, and one of these ideas was to give a sad ending to my story. You don't have to read it, just stay with the happy ending, I think it's better that way, because I regret writing this. But at the same time I don't, because I had to get rid of it. So it's done, and it's here, but it's not the official ending!If you are here and haven't read From Where I Stand, stop before it's too late, and go read my story instead. (If you wish to).
Relationships: Collins (Dunkirk)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	From Where I Stand (alternative ending)

My eyes were heavy, burning, swollen. Pain was hammering inside my head and I would have done anything to make it stop. The sun had risen for several hours already when someone knocked on the door. It opened to reveal my mother, all dressed up for the day, her face washed-out and her eyes full of worry.

“Did you get some rest?” she asked me, but a simple look at the bed told her the answer she was looking for. She said nothing, she understood. She knew I couldn’t sleep if she wasn’t by my side.

“You need to get ready. The rest of the family is here. We’ll wait for you in the living room, okay?”

I didn’t say yes. I simply got up from the armchair I had not left since the day before, walked to the wardrobe to get the dark suit that had been hung there for me, and I heard my mother’s footsteps fade away. I was glad she would not insist on trying to make me talk. She had learnt when to step in and when to let me be since my return from war.

I get rid of the shirt I had been wearing for three of four days probably, and moved to the bathroom to step into the shower and wash off that unpleasant feeling that had stuck to me for too long, before someone could look at me with disgust hidden behind pity. I had witnessed a lot of things during war, I had experienced loss, but nothing had prepared me for that. Nothing was as painful as that.

Once clean and dry, I put on the suit I had never worn before. I had been waiting for a special occasion to take it out, but I had never thought this would be it. I turned to face the mirror and observed my reflection that I had avoided for days, a ghost like vision. A livid face, bleak eyes circled by dark rings. I was worse than I had ever been, and it would scare Freya if I didn’t try to improve that a bit, even though it felt completely silly to try to look good on a day like that. But people talked, so I grabbed the Brylcreem that I kept on her vanity to arrange my hair in a pleasant way. I was taming my locks with a comb when she finally appeared behind me, her comforting presence reflecting in the mirror as she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around me.

“Thank you for making the effort, my love. I know how you feel today, and how hard it must be, but you know I’m here for you,” she pressed her cheek against mine. “And I know I told you I wasn’t much into the Brylcreem boy look, but I might have changed my mind,” she whispered in my ear on a lighter note.

I closed my eyes and smiled, enjoying the warmth of her body stuck to mine, the very thing I needed on that day to feel better, but when I opened my eyes, she was gone, and as I looked around, I heard her voice coming from the corridor.

“Could you check if Tommy’s ready for me please?”

I grabbed her necklace that she had forgotten to put on in the morning, stuffed it in my pocket to give it to her later, and I left the room. I knew she would want it. She usually never took it off, but her mind was probably elsewhere at the moment, like mine.

When I entered Tommy’s bedroom, I discovered him already dressed up, sitting at the edge of his bed, twisting a tiny round object between his fingers. He thrust it into his pocket when he saw me, not to hide it from me, but because he knew that if I was standing in front of him, it was because it was time.

“C’mon. Put on your jacket, we have to go,” I forced myself to smile for him, for I didn’t want him to dread this day as much as I did.

He obeyed and jumped on his feet, grabbed his black jacket and walked past me to leave his room. I followed him downstairs and sent him to find his grandparents before I headed to the kitchen on my own, avoiding the people waiting for me in the living room. I was not in the mood to do some small talk. Not that morning.

The table was full of food brought by friends, but none of it seemed appealing. I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t even check if there was coffee left, I went directly for the cupboard where I knew I would find the bottle I was looking for.

“You know it’s not the answer,” she startled me. I had not heard her come in after me, but she was now looking at me with disapproving eyes, and so, I didn’t take the bottle of whisky out.

“You should eat something and have a cup of tea. It’s going to be a long day. The crumpets are good! I don’t know who made them, but you should try one,” she told me as she grabbed one and walked away, leaving me alone for the second time. “I’ll see you later.”

I didn’t follow her advice. I wasn’t feeling like eating anything, and I had no idea how she managed to act so relaxed on such a gloomy day. Maybe she thought I carried enough sadness for the both of us. I wished she would stay by my side, but she always seemed to have to be somewhere else. When I returned to the lobby, my mother was waiting for me with Tomas at her side and Iona in her arms. The main door was open, as to tell me I couldn’t delay it any longer.

“Your car is waiting for you,” she informed me as she gave me my daughter, all bundled up in a warm crochet blanket, only her bright pink face visible, with her very tiny nose and her eyes she was still too weak to open for too long.

“Thank you,” I told her as she laid a gentle hand on my cheek, as if to tell me everything would be alright. I turned away and invited Tomas to follow me. Today would be a long day.

—

The car was dead silent during the short journey to the other side of town, only the engine filling the void and Iona burbling from time to time, visibly enjoying being in my arms. As I turned my attention from the scenery going by, I noticed Tomas had taken his little treasure out of his pocket.

“Where did you get that?” I asked him, curious to know why he was carrying a seashell with him.

“Grandpa and I went to the beach yesterday. I found it and kept it because it has a heart,” he explained as he showed me the pearly surface adorned with a red spot in the shape of a heart, which made it very unique. “It’s a gift for mummy. She’ll like it,” he went on as he observed his treasure thoughtfully.

“I’m sure she will,” I pulled him in my embrace, holding both my children close to me, until we finally reached our destination.

As I stepped out, I noticed people were already gathered a bit further, all dressed in dark colours, all patiently waiting for the ceremony to start. I took a deep breath, held my daughter a bit closer and made my way towards the group of known faces. They turned silent when they noticed me, and I could feel their sorry eyes on me, their comforting hands squeezing my arm, but nobody knew what to say. I preferred it like that anyway. I gave them a faint smile, as a polite response, but I hated the attention I was receiving. I was relieved when I saw her standing next to her father, and I was warmed by the smile she gave me, her special smile that reminded me that no matter what, I was loved and I had her.

I stopped at her side and finally took some time to observe the scene in front of me. The coffin was already waiting next to the hole that would welcome it. People were gathering around, all showing pain on their face.

“Everyone is here,” Freya said. “It makes it a bit easier, right, to see all this love? It’s all we’ve got in the end, that’s why I always tell you that I love you.”

I was about to tell her I loved her too when my mother appeared at my side and interrupted me.

“It’s about to begin, darling. Do you want me to take Iona for you?” she asked, extending her arms towards my daughter without waiting for my answer.

“No. Not now,” I rejected her offer. “I’ll keep her.” I clung to her like I would cling to a life belt.

She didn’t try to argue and took her place behind me, next to my father and my sisters, to whom I had not said a word for the whole morning. They would not blame me, I had my reasons.

When the vicar started talking, I grabbed Tommy’s hand in mine, and I focused my attention on my children and Freya’s hands wrapped around my arm. They were the only things that gave me strength on that day. The whole atmosphere was terribly heavy, the clouds so low in the sky they added to my feeling of suffocation. Every word uttered faded in the vast silence surrounding me, as if I was not standing with the rest of the attendance, as if I wasn’t in this world anymore but alone in my misery. The eulogy seemed to take ages, when it was probably not even long enough to express all that had to be said, but I didn’t pay attention; those religious sayings made no sense to me, they carried no comforting meaning. Nothing could ease my despair. And when I watched the coffin being lowered to its final place, when I watched it disappear into the ground, I felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest, as if I was now missing a part of me, the most important one. I could not grasp what I was witnessing.

When the coffin hit the bottom, I let the motherly arms take Iona from me. I was completely lost, unable to know how to act or what was expected from me. Were people watching me to know if I was crying? Did they want me to show them I was hurting? Mechanically, I stepped closer to the hole with Tomas, still holding his hand, and I bent forward to grab a handful of dirt. It was cold and damp against my skin, nasty. But I opened my hand above the void anyway, letting every dark grain slip between my fingers, as an echo of the way my life was quickly eluding me. I had no grasp on my destiny. When there was nothing left but a muddy stain on my palm, I remained inert, standing at the edge of the grave, not quite believing what was happening, until Tomas, having watched me, brought his hand before him and dropped the seashell he had treasured so much. And only when it landed on the top of the coffin with a terrible meaning, I realised I was burying the love of my life. Only then did I realise she would never come back.

I could not leave her, I could not step away and say goodbye forever. I was not ready. I wanted to be buried with her and my pain to stop. I could not move on. She was on the other side now, she wasn’t standing next to me anymore, she seemed so close but so far. I could not look away and accept this terrible reality. But as a confirmation that this was not a dream, I saw another hand do the same thing I had done. A father saying goodbye to his daughter. A broken man sharing my sorrow, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and saying nothing, knowing no words could ever ease the crushing distress that was mine. I hurt like I had never suffered before; so much that no tears would fall from my eyes. They remained completely dry and my thoughts completely blank.

—

The ceremony over, the coffin covered with dirt, we had returned home, leaving her behind us, a cold body condemned to darkness. A ray of sunshine reduced to obscurity.

The house was full and yet it felt empty without her. As soon as I had stepped in, I had entrusted Iona to my sisters, asked my father to look after Tomas for me, and politely declined the affection my mother wanted to give me, for fear I would break down the moment I would end up in her arms. I had to be strong. I had no time to cry, no time to wallow in self-pity, for I now had two children to look after, all by myself. If I collapsed, they would too, and they were way too young to have their lives ruined. They needed me, so I put on a brave face, I buried the pain deep inside, and I stood in a corner of the living room, clinging to a glass of water I would not drink, listening to people offering me their condolences, telling me how wonderful Freya was; and if I had the strength, I would force a smile and thank them for coming. The truth was, I would have preferred to be left alone and not have to listen to these people talking about her, sharing their memories with me to prove she was the best person to ever exist, reminding me of my loss. I didn’t want to talk about her in the past. She had always been my present and my future, but to know our future was dead with her, that in one last breath she had left my present to belong to the past, this very thought made me want to throw up, because my mind refused to accept it.

Before someone could see the pain on my face and ask me how I felt, I left the room, abandoned my glass of water in the kitchen and replaced it with the bottle of whisky I had left earlier, heading outside to escape the hell that my home had become.

I swallowed a good gulp of the alcohol before I discarded it. I felt the liquid burn my throat, as a reminder that even if I wanted to be dead with her, I was well alive, and I took a deep breath of the cold air, searching for something to make me feel better, anything, but even outside, I felt like I was suffocating. Everything was flavourless now that she wasn’t there to share it with me.

Nothing could help, I knew it, nothing could be done, and I hated it, but I lit a cigarette nonetheless, because I was really bad at being passive. She wanted me to quit, and I had reduced, but not entirely. She wouldn’t blame me if I gave in again, I needed it. I needed to let go of some of the pain if I wanted to be the person I had to be for my children, but as much as I tried to empty my mind, all I could think about was the fact she was gone. A voice in my head kept telling me that the person I had buried earlier was her, that I would never see her again, even if it all seemed inconceivable. I was expecting to see her show up at my side at any moment, sighing to let me know how she disapproved my addiction, except that she wasn’t the one to join me, but her father.

“How are you holding up, son?” he said as he patted my shoulder like he had already done so many times before.

“I don’t know…”

I took a long pause, because I couldn’t find words to express what I felt. There was none.

“I don’t even know how I’m still standing on my feet,” I told him. “I think I just needed to be alone.”

“I can leave you alone, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No! That’s not what I meant. Please stay.”

He agreed and remained by my side as we both watched the horizon in complete silence, thinking about her.

“She’ll be missed our Freya,” he said eventually.

He was right. I would miss her every day of my life. I would feel her absence all the time, like a terrible gloom leaving no space for happiness.

“She wanted a second child so much…” I started, not knowing what I wanted to say, just feeling like I had to say it. “I wanted too, but her health was my priority. I thought we were perfectly happy, just the three of us, and I tried to convince her that given what had happened to her with Tomas, it was probably better to enjoy what we were lucky to have rather than take the risk to lose it all. But she couldn’t… You saw it too, right?”

“I did.”

“She would be so sad when we talked about not having a bigger family that I feared she would end up hating me. She kept saying her heart was telling her she was meant to be a mother, and she got what she wanted eventually. I gave up. And she was so happy when she found out we were expecting for the second time. I had never seen her like that, she was radiating joy, and she made me forget about my worries. She didn’t seem scared at all. She said she could feel it was different and she followed the advice she was given, she did everything as she was told. She rested, she was careful not to make too many efforts. She felt confident, and I felt too, because of her. She remained confident until the end, and yet they took her away. They took my wife away in exchange for a baby I didn’t want in the first place…”

“You can’t hold this against Iona. My daughter knew the risks and she took them.”

“I know, I know… I love her. I’m thankful to have her, but if I could go back in time, if I had to choose, I would not have yielded. I would have done my best to convince Freya that one child was enough. I failed her. I didn’t protect her and she’s dead because of me, because I wasn’t strong enough, good enough.”

“You know it wouldn’t have been that easy. She wanted that child. You aren’t responsible for what happened. Nobody could predict it would end up like that…”

He was right, once again. She had felt so accomplished as a mother, finally experiencing the kind of love she had been deprived of her whole life, but now my children were deprived of it too, I was deprived of her love because she had wanted me to experience something so unique as that with her. But the thing was that I could not see myself do it without her.

“How did you move on?” I forced the words out of my mouth after a while.

“I didn’t. You don’t move on, you just pretend.”

I would have preferred to hear something else, but it was the only honest answer he could give me. He had always been honest with me.

I dropped my eyes to the floor and looked at the cigarette between my fingers that I had not smoked in the end. It was almost completely consumed now. I couldn’t do anything anymore, not even that, so I let it fall to the floor and I didn’t light a new one.

“Join us inside when you feel like it. We’re here for you,” he pressed his hand to my arm again, as if to prove they were not just words, that he meant them.

I was alone again. Alone with her in my thoughts. It wasn’t different from usual, unless I knew the crave I felt to see her would never be satisfied. She loved saying we were meant to be, I believed it too, and yet life had done everything to set us apart. Our love had lost, life had decided for us. Our time together had been too short. We had promised to spend our life together, and after a few years only, our life together was already over. She seemed like a parenthesis in my life, when she should have been my whole life. It should have been her forever.

I didn’t want to go back inside. I didn’t need people to ask me how I felt. I felt nothing. I was empty.

I walked through the garden until I reached the natural steps that led to the beach further down. I observed the bushes of gorse lining the path and I remembered how she loved their yellow flowers, and how she would always bring some branches home, pricking her fingers on the thorns, just because she wanted to add a touch of nature to our interior. My mind would never be at peace knowing all the things that were lost forever with her. The pitched intonation that her voice would take when she was getting excited by the smallest details of life, the special curve of her lips when she looked at me or Tomas, the fact that she always asked for a kiss when I left her side, even if it was only to go fetch wood in the garden. She was only memories now, that I knew would fade away.

The beach was completely empty. It was just me and distant seagulls laughing at my misfortune, the monotonous sound of waves crashing, the grey sky merging with the sea, and the wind carrying foam and lashing my face. I had lost all my bearings. I was a castaway who had wound up in someone else’s reality. The world had stopped being mine. My life had stopped with her heart. I was left with her ghost, a pale manifestation that I could see somehow, if I closed my eyes, if I lost my mind, but that I could not reach if I tried to touch her, take her into my arms, feel her. She was gone, and all I had left were memories. So many memories it hurt. I choked on her absence.

This beach alone had seen so many moments of our life together, the most common like the most memorable. Watching Tomas play and run around, chasing the last rays of sun at the end of the day, or escaping our roles of parents for a stroll on the wet sand, just the two of us. She had told me the big news just there. “I’m pregnant.” It was where she had taken me by surprise. I could remember the joy and excitement in her voice, the smile on her face, the love in her eyes. The feeling in my heart, this overwhelming gratitude, this ever-growing admiration as I lifted her in my arms to share my happiness with her. At the time, it felt like nothing could stop us, the world was ours. It was just us, our laughs, our family, our future. Now, it was just me and the painful vacuity surrounding me. It was only my footsteps on the beach, a representation of my solitude, as hers had been erased forever, swallowed by the waves. They had taken her away from me, carried her to the open sea, where she was unreachable.

I kept walking with no aim in mind, with no destination, desperately hoping the pain would fade away, life would feel worth living again. The fresh air from the sea was a slight relief, easing my feeling of suffocation, allowing me to finally breathe something not charged with her floral perfume. The sea spray on my cheeks replaced the tears that would not fall, as if it was too much, as if my body could not believe it either. It didn’t feel real. Not to me. And I wondered if it would ever be.

I stopped at the cemetery gate, when I realised my feet had taken me back to where I had left her. It was desolate, deprived of any living soul. The sky had darkened and the thin raindrops falling from the clouds made the atmosphere heavier with sadness. Her grave stood out among all the others as it was the only one covered with fresh flowers; the only spot of colour and life around, showing me the way, attracting me like a moth to a lamppost. I slowly approached, fearing to read her name on the headstone that I had refused to look at during the ceremony, but it was there, I could feel it under my fingers. Her name and the one we shared, and the two dates too close to one another. Where she would be for her eternal rest.

I felt sick in my stomach at the thought that I had condemned her to it. I would go back to our home and leave her in the coldness and inhospitality of the earth, her delicate body trapped in a box, in the muddy ground. Her beautiful eyes closed forever, her gracious features hidden from everyone, her once warm body condemned to rote because of me. I didn’t want to leave her side, I could not bear the thought of her here alone. She hated being alone. She loved being surrounded, she loved her family and her children; the one who had saved her and the one whose eyes she had not even had the time to meet. She had been deprived of it, and I would never forgive myself for not being able to protect her and save her. Her absence was unbearable, and I wanted to hold her in my arms, warm her cold body and bring her back to life, but I could not reach her, it was too late. It was only my knees buckling and hitting the ground, and my fists helplessly sinking into the earth that separated us.

“Fucking hell Freya! Why did you leave me? How am I supposed to do it without you?” I asked desperately, breaking the heavy silence that had wrapped me. I needed to talk to her, she had to hear me, because she was the only one who could understand. “I know how you felt now. That feeling that someone is constantly crushing your heart, cutting it into pieces and throwing it into the flames. I can’t stand it, love. And I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I can’t stand it any longer, because I’ve no hope that you’ll come back to me. I know there will be no miracle. I’ve seen life being sucked out of you and I’ll never forget your empty eyes looking at me. I know there is no hope and that I’ve lost you forever, but it’s so hard, it hurts so much my love. I miss you so much.”

“It’s my fault. It was my duty to protect you and I failed. I didn’t know how to save you. I should have died in my fucking plane, so you would still be alive, and Tomas would still have his mother. But fuck! I’d rather be dead than live without you. I’d give my life for you, you’re so much better than me! You knew how to do this. You want me to be there for our children, but what am I supposed to tell them when I don’t even know what’s happening to me? How am I supposed to protect Tommy from all this when I can’t even hide my suffering? And Iona, she looks so much like you my darling. I wish you could have held her in your arms before they took her away from you, you could have met her. She’s perfect, love. You’ve made an angel, but you know it right? You knew that I would love her with every piece of my heart, that you were giving me one more good reason to live for you. I will. I’ll do my best, for you and for them. But it hurts like hell, and I’d give anything to hear your voice one more time. Please. Don’t leave me entirely, I beg you!”

Prostrate, bent over her tomb, I waited, but she never gave me a sign, and I let the rain fall over me, make its way through my clothes, through my skin, to my bones, drowning me in my grief, awakening the pain that I had somehow managed to control until then, filling my throat with the disgusting taste of blood, of loss. I wanted to scream, I wanted to throw up, I wanted to cry until I couldn’t anymore, but nothing would get out, everything was trapped inside of me. I knew I had to go back to my family, but I couldn’t move, my body and mind refused to go anywhere else. She was family, she made ours. I couldn’t leave her as if she didn’t mean anything.

And what if she wasn’t dead? What if it was a misunderstanding and she was just in a long sleep? I had to be there in case she woke up, to reassure her, take her out of this hell. It made no sense, but her death made no sense either; my return after she had been told I was dead made no sense to her. I had come back to life, risen from the dead, why not her? We had always beaten the odds, proved our fate was not written, so why should we accept this one? Why should I accept to leave her in there, the love of my life? I had to take her out of there, bring her back with me and show everyone it was a mistake. It wasn’t my imagination this morning, it was really her standing at my side, talking to me. It couldn’t be otherwise. She wasn’t gone.

“Andrew!”

My sister had come from nowhere and rushed to my side.

“Oh God, Andy… You’re soaked,” she said as she sheltered me under her umbrella. I wanted to tell her that I did not care about the rain, about being cold and feeling weak, but I said nothing when I saw the pity and worry in her eyes. She couldn’t understand.

“Come on, let’s get you home. Let’s go back to your children,” Jane said in a maternal, sympathetic tone, her hand firmly grasping my arm to help me get up. I didn’t push her. I didn’t have the strength. Instead, I let her walk me to the car that would drive me away from Freya again, and I did my best to get rid of the feeling of self-loath that grew in my heart because I was abandoning my wife.

—

I had let my mother take care of me when I got back. She seemed worried about me, so I let her look after me as if I was a child again, if it could make her feel better and stop asking me how I felt every time I blinked. I had no answer to give her and zero desire to talk.

I understood their worry about my silence, my emotionless face and my desire to be left alone, but I knew that if I showed only one small part of what I kept inside of me, I would explode. I would fall and I was certain I would not be able to get back on my feet. My pain was what held me together, so I had to stand strong, hoping it would be enough until maybe, the suffering would give place to numbness. Until then, I let my mother treat me like her child. I obeyed when she told me to lie on the couch next to her and rest my head on her lap. I let her stroke my hair like she used to do years ago, and I partially listened to her plain conversation with my sisters. Her fingers lightly scratching my scalp reminded me so much of the way Freya would touch me when she wanted to ease my mind and keep all my dark memories far from us. It would always work, but now, her absence was the darkness invading my mind, and nothing could keep it at a safe distance. Grief had replaced the blissful love I used to feel for her.

“You’re lucky in your misfortune, lucky to be too young to realise your loss,” Mary told my daughter that she was holding in her arms, delicately caressing her plumped cheeks from her fingertips, as Iona’s wondering eyes were fixed on her, impressed by this new world that felt a lot less safe than her mother’s womb.

“She looks so much like you Andy. Don’t you think Mama?”

Maybe she was right, but all I could see when looking at my daughter was Freya, not me. Life had given me a living proof of what had been taken from me. Iona had sweet hazelnut eyes just like her mother. Warm, mesmerising eyes that had made me feel so vulnerable when I had met them for the first time. They conveyed a truth and intensity that only Freya had shown before. Yes, even if her hair was lighter and the shape of her nose different, it was her mother I wanted to see in her. It was her beautiful features she had inherited. Looking at her would always take me back to the day my life as I knew it had ended. Those innocent eyes triggered painful memories.

—

It was a fine day. I never presumed it would turn out like that. Beams of sun had come into the room after the rain had stopped, reflecting on the drops of water still stuck to the window, sending little sparkles on the walls and ceiling, on my skin and on the laundry I was folding. I did not mind doing it, it was a peaceful time. The fresh smell of clean clothes, the satisfaction of a task done well, the feeling to be at the right place, her voice coming from the other room as she sang to our son. I was certain I had everything I needed to be happy. What a wonderful woman she was, as well as a perfect mother and wife. She had put up with so much, for me, and was still going through so much, because of me. She was the strongest of us both, a force to reckon with, hidden behind loving eyes and a sweet face. I smiled thinking of her, even if she was just in the other room. I had to force myself not to check on her all the time, scared that she would be fed up with me if I kept looking after her every second of the day. I was at peace knowing she was having fun with Tommy, strengthening their special bond before a new Collins would join the family. We weren’t scared about his reaction. We knew he would be the perfect big brother to this new baby. He was so excited, he had already prepared the toys he would share with his little brother or sister. He was just as ready as we were, we only had to wait now. A room waiting to welcome a new guest, a mother impatient to meet the little soul she had desired so much, and me, daydreaming about our family of four.

“Andy!” she called me, her voice heavy with worry.

“Andy please! I need you!”

I dropped the laundry I was holding in my hands and hurried to the living room, where I was met with her face torn with discomfort, one of her hands holding her belly, the other one reaching out for me.

I immediately wrapped my arm around her to let her lean against me, her body feeling heavier than usual because of the fear that had seized me.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s happening,” she informed me between two deep inspirations.

“What? Now?”

“Yes baby, now,” she simply said as I helped her sit in the nearest armchair. “You need to drive me to the clinic.”

“I know love. We’re going,” I reassured her, even though I was the one freaking out, not her.

“Tommy, put your shoes on and grab your coat. Mummy’s having the baby,” I told him as I put on my own jacket and fetched Freya’s shoes to help her dress up.

“Am I coming with you?” he asked full of hope, despite being a bit afraid of the discomfort expressed by his mother.

“No laddie. I’m sorry. Nanny will look after you.”

“Okay, let’s go,” I helped her get up, causing her to moan with pain, her fingers clenching my arm.

“It’s okay, it’s normal,” she felt the need to say when she saw the way I was looking at her. She smiled through the pain, so I figured out I could smile too, despite the worry that kept growing in my heart.

I walked her out of the room, Tomas leading the way, and I saw her grab his plane toy that he had left behind, still thinking about him first. She sighed with relief when she sat in the car. I looked one last time at the house before I closed the door, knowing that when I would come back later, or maybe the day after, my life would be different, but better.

“I’ll be back in a sec love!”

“Come Tom’, we’ve to be quick,” I told him as I took his hand in mine, ready to bring him to our neighbour’s home where he would be looked after, far from the stress that the current situation was triggering.

“Wait! Come give a kiss to mama,” Freya almost begged.

She didn’t have to say more that he was already running into her arms, grabbing onto her as he could feel he would not see her very soon. I observed her bury her face into his hair, kissing him with all her love, as if she had travelled back to the day he had come into her life. She looked at him with tears in her eyes, gently stroking his cheek, and she placed the plane in his hands.

“Go with daddy now. I’ll see you very soon my darling boy,” she said goodbye and then gazed at me with what looked like sadness. Thinking about it, I wondered if she already knew.

—

“I think it’s time for the little one to go to bed,” she said when Iona yawned after having finished drinking her bottle.

“I can do it mum,” I stopped her before she could leave the room. There were things I had to do by myself.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, give her to me.”

She put my daughter in my arms, but gave me a look that said more than words. She couldn’t hide her worry.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. You can go now,” I told her, as well as the rest of my family, hoping they would understand and leave me.

“Andy, darling, we can stay. We’re here to help you. We really don’t mind.”

“Honestly mum, I’d rather be alone… Please.”

“But you’ve been through a lot! You don’t have to—” 

“Mum, please!” I insisted. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, but now, I need to be alone.”

“As you wish.”

She seemed a bit hurt, heartbroken.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gave me a kiss and prepared to leave, reluctantly. She was sad too, afraid of the thoughts that filled my mind, but she would respect my desire. She knew I was tired of the pity in people’s eyes, of the silence feeling the room every time someone was scared to mention her name, of everybody looking at me as if they were ready to pick up the pieces if I crumbled in front of them. I wanted to be alone.

When the front door finally closed behind them, I felt relieved. I no longer had to pretend. I was alone with my children in the empty space she had left behind, this house which seemed so dark and bleak without her. She had turned it into our home, but she wasn’t there to enjoy it anymore. Yet, however painful it would be, I knew I would never leave it.

I invited Tomas to go upstairs and I followed his little blond head in silence, thinking about how his innocent life had been abruptly turned upside down. He insisted on helping me put Iona to bed, looking over his sister as I changed her, clinging to her crib as I settled her in, holding her tiny hand while waiting for her to close her eyes, which she thankfully did in no time. He was visibly intrigued by her, by how small she was and the fragility she conveyed, but he loved her. He was too young to be spoiled by the thought she could be responsible for his mother’s death, and I wished I had never had this disgusting thought myself. Even if it was only for a split second, it had crossed my mind and I hated myself for that.

It was his turn to go to bed and I lifted him in my arms, to carry him to his bedroom. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, but I needed him close to me, his head nested against my shoulder and his arms wrapped around my neck. I wanted to feel something. Something good. Love in its purest form. With his sister, he was the only thing I had left of her, and I would protect them at all cost.

I let him put on his pyjamas as I prepared his bed, observing his mother’s scarf that he had placed next to his pillow, feeling the silky fabric under my fingers. I had come back from the clinic with her stuff but without her. I had told him, as clearly as I could, as gently as possible, and he had grabbed the scarf and never let go of it since.

He slipped under the bedsheets and I tucked him in as he pressed his new comforter to his nose. He knew there would be no story tonight, just like the previous nights. I couldn’t fake a smile, even less put on a show for him. He wasn’t asking for one anyway.

“If I pray for mummy,” he said instead, “will she be there when I wake up tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid not. She’s not coming back.”

I didn’t want to lie to him, but my heart broke every time he shared a little hope that his mother had not gone forever, and the sadness that filled his eyes every time I had to deny him that hope was so hard to witness.

“Did she leave because of me? Because I didn’t want to eat my vegetables?”

“Oh no, laddie! No!” I hurried to erase this thought from his mind. “You know your mama loved you more than everything in the world, she never wanted to leave you! You were everything to her.”

“I miss her.”

“I know. I miss her too…”

—

She was strong. I always told her she was. That day again, she had been strong. She had handled the pain like it was indeed nothing, compared to what she had experienced during her first delivery. Things were normal, and she wasn’t scared at all. “I can’t wait to meet our baby,” she had told me with a smile I would never forget.

The whole day was a bit of a blur. I only had flashes of what had happened, how heaven had turned into hell in a split second. It was as if I was kissing her and joking with her while we waited for labour to start, and the second after, she was gone. She was doing great; she was doing so great and making me so proud. I could still feel her hand squeezing mine, see her eyes looking for mine, as if she was making sure I was fine and fully there with her. I could feel her tears under my fingers, wetting her warm cheeks after she had told me she had everything she had ever wanted. She was fully there with me, until she wasn’t anymore.

She had made sure the baby she had carried for nine months had safely come into the world. She had cried happy tears and laughed when she had heard her scream for the first time, and I was so overwhelmed myself, I didn’t know where to look. At her, at our daughter, at the nurse taking care of our baby…

“Did you hear, love? It’s a girl!” I told her as I focused my attention back to her, only to see that something was wrong, that her smile had disappeared and her eyes had lost their flamboyance. The grip of her hand loosening around mine and a void opening under my feet, ready to swallow me in its darkness.

I asked what was the problem, several times, but nobody answered, and the movement of people busying around her made me dizzy. Nobody saw me, nobody acknowledged my distress. I was a spectator of what was happening and I could not do anything but watch my life heading to its destruction, like a car speeding towards a wall, knowing the impact would be terrible, but unable to avoid it.

“Love them for me. Love them like you’ve loved me.”

I had refused to promise her that. I had forbidden her to give up. I had clung to her and begged her to stay with me, begged them to save her. I had forced her to look at me, taken her face in my hands, pressed my forehead against hers and looked into her eyes, hoping it would bring her back to me, repeated words that were full of hope at the time but now sounded empty. She looked sorry to leave me and she knew this time she couldn’t fight. They forced me to leave her side when she needed me the most. They prevented me from responding to her last words to me, pulled me aside, forced me out of the room and placed my daughter in my arms without telling me what was happening, leaving me to wait in fear, and it was the last time I saw her alive.

When they let me back into the room and I saw her pale body on the bed, her face so peaceful, rested as if she was only asleep, my heart stopped beating, my mind went blank and I didn’t listen to what the doctor was telling me. The fact was that she was dead and they hadn’t managed to save her, the rest didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered, and yet I couldn’t process it, until I acknowledged my daughter’s presence in my arms, a painful reminder that only Freya’s pain had stopped that day. Mine was only starting.

—

Iona had woken up shortly after I had put her and her brother to bed, and it had taken me a long time to manage to get her back to sleep. It had asked for a lot of bouncing in my arms and lulling her to calm her heart wrenching cries, a lot of walking around the room to make her fall asleep. Her tired eyes that she had struggled to keep open had told me she knew something was wrong. Her mother, who had protected her for so long, was gone, and she had transitioned from living thanks to her to growing without her way too quickly. I could never replace Freya for her, but I could do my best to soothe her and make it easier for her.

When I was sure she was sound asleep, with her tiny chest rising regularly with each of her breath, I left her bedroom to go back to mine and maybe find some rest myself. With my two children asleep, the house had turned dead quiet, and for the first time in what felt like days, I was truly facing what my reality had become. An empty shell. Nothingness. I was left with all that love for her that I couldn’t share, and there was no good in that, because I felt like it would destroy me if I kept expecting to see her when I stepped into a room, trying to find her everywhere at any time, even in the smallest details. She was gone. Even if I had kept everything the way she had left it, her glass of water on the bedside table, her clothes on the armchair, her jewellery on the chest of drawers, she was gone. She wasn’t waiting for me in bed reading, she wasn’t helping me undress after a long day out or sharing her excitement at feeling our baby move, taking my hand to place it where the wonder was happening. Her perfume was still floating in the air, but she was gone. Surrounded by the heavy silence, overburdened with memories, I found myself crying while looking at our empty bed, letting out a wave of sorrow that I couldn’t contain any longer, destroying the fences I had built around me. I kept telling myself she was gone. She was gone. Forever. I couldn’t escape the painful truth, and I choked on my overflowing tears, I let it all out. The distress I had felt when her eyes had lost their spark, the pain that had dug a hole in my heart when I had buried her, the guilt that had crept into my mind. The force of my grief had thrown me to my knees, and I did not fight it. I let the tears roll down my cheeks, did not try to control the sobs shaking my body, because I had nothing to prove to anyone anymore. I didn’t have to pretend I was stronger than I was to ease the worries of my family. I could crumble; I could be weak. I needed to let it all out.

“Daddy, are you crying?” his little sleepy voice startled me. I turned to see him standing at the door, rubbing his eyes with his fists, holding his mother’s scarf. My first reflex was to wipe the tears off my face and force a smile, put on a mask not to scare him with the pain I felt, but he was old enough to understand.

“Mummy, she told me it’s normal to cry when we’re sad or when something hurts,” he approached me and pressed a small, warm hand to my cheek, where the tears were seconds before, and I struggled to hold myself together. “You can cry if you’re sad because mummy is not with us. Iona she cries a lot, and I cry too. It’s okay daddy.”

He was already being too mature for his age, telling me what I should have told him as his father. He was showing me there was no point lying about my pain, he could see it, he understood. The shame I felt was not because of him seeing me like that, but because of my failure at protecting him from all this. As I felt tears form in my eyes again, I pulled him in my arms and held him tight, hoping he would forgive me for avoiding him since his mother’s death. I had selfishly thought it would have been too hard to keep living as it was when she was with us, but I needed him, and he needed his father. I abandoned myself in the comfort of his arms wrapping around my neck and I let my sorrow run free. I didn’t have to hide my vulnerability to him. His mother was right, it was okay to cry when it hurt.

—

With time, nothing had changed. I still missed her. I had been angry for a long time, at life, at people. I had pushed them away thinking I would be better alone. There were moments I had felt like giving up, but our children had saved me. Watching them grow up to become whom she had dreamed them to be was of great comfort, even if she wasn’t there to see it. I loved them twice as much for the both of us, hoping they would never lack any. Their laughter and happy screams somehow erased my worries. Tomas had turned into a very protective brother, never leaving his sister’s side; and she didn’t mind, for she followed him everywhere in her clumsy toddler way. But even if she knew how to walk and talk now, she was still too young to grasp what she was missing. There would be a time I would have to explain it to her, when she would realise she didn’t have a mother kissing her at night or picking her up at school like the rest of her friends.

I wasn’t alone without her, I had realised that after a while. I was surrounded and loved. James had come back home, and with his wife, they had looked after my children when I felt like I couldn’t do it. The ups were rare and short, the downs never-ending and painful. But their love gave me the strength to leave this place. Yet, I still missed a big part of me. I carried her wedding ring around my neck, so she was with me, always. I had her locket displayed on her bedside table, as if waiting for her to put it on. I sometimes believed it was her voice I could hear from the kitchen, her steps in the stairs, her breath on my neck, but it all vanished as quickly as it appeared. I could not get used to her absence, and I wondered if I would ever feel happy again, like I had been with her. I had realised she had always been the reason of my happiness, giving me a purpose during war, helping me deal with my trauma afterwards, giving me a reason to love, someone to be, for her and my family. I had no idea how to be happy without her.

For now, my children were happy, and it was all I cared about. Thanks to them, I had managed to genuinely laugh again and enjoy all the little things I used to enjoy with her. I now had more days when I felt like I could do it than days when everything was terribly dark. More days when I was free of the vision of her. I had no choice but to resume my life. Even if the fear of losing the memory of her was real, I had asked her to let me move on, to stop haunting my days, but to haunt my dreams instead, for I still needed her, I would never replace her. No one could replace her. I could never really lose her anyway, she was living through our children now. She was in Iona’s laugh and in Tomas’s warm kindness. She would always be with us.

_Do not stand at my grave and weep;_

_I am not there. I do not sleep._

_I am thousand winds that blow._

_I am the diamond glints on snow._

_I am the sunlight on ripened grain._

_I am the gentle autumn rain._

_When you awaken in the morning's hush_

_I am the swift uplifting rush_

_Of quiet birds in circled flight._

_I am the soft stars that shine at night._

_Do not stand at my grave and cry;_

_I am not there. I did not die._

_Mary Elizabeth Frye_


End file.
